The Blog of Cafe Dissensus Magazine – we DISSENT

Posts tagged ‘Delhi’

My Gift

By Sutapa Basu
What had I done? Was it their hunger I had appeased or assuaged my guilt? Here I was, unthinkingly buying inessential food to mark just a festive occasion and there they were… starving for just a morsel!

Us and Them

By Amartya Banerjee
There is a lively school of thought in West Bengal that my father describes as “not Marxism, not socialism, not even secularism, but Denial-ism”. Without singling out any person or party, there is present, a pattern of justification which says that “Everybody is to blame, save us.”

Nirbhaya and Korpan Shah: Two Stories, Two Trajectories

By Nandini Ghosh
Korpan, on the other hand, is just the opposite of all that Nirbhaya represented – a mentally ill man, with little education and no stable job, hence with very few aspirations in life. Moreover, the aspersion of theft of a mobile phone made him more culpable for the crime he was accused of. It is almost believable that a mentally ill man with little money would be prone to committing such a crime.

Flying Birds of India

By Joyce Yarrow
Many of the films made by the Flying Birds documented the lives of working artists or were made during field trips throughout the city or holiday celebrations. When, after the screening, a young man presented me with an embroidered portrait of Tagore, I made no attempt to hide my tears of gratitude. Being with the Flying Birds had changed me in ways I knew I had yet to acknowledge.

My India

By Elena Vinokurova
You have no future and all that awaits you is death from an overdose of sun, freedom, and chili peppers…and, then, you wake up in a gray city apartment in a gray concrete high-rise under a gray sky among people dressed in gray ties.

Two Weeks in Delhi

By Bhaswati Ghosh
No matter where I live or how big my house is, home will always be this three-room single-story unit. It’s where
Grandfather did his battery of morning exercises in the front yard; it’s where Grandma unburdened herself through writing. On hot summer days just like these, she lay on her stomach on the bare floor—her work desk—with sheets of foolscap strewn before her.